


Batty Bratty Catty Taffy

by Dragoneisha



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Anal Sex, Bro Strider's Weird Saw Shit, Cats, Costumes, Dragonzord (Power Rangers), Face-Fucking, FaceFucking, Halloween, Incest, Injury, M/M, Multi, Oral Sex, Puppets, Rough Oral Sex, Sigourney Weaver (Alien), Threesome, Threesome - M/M/M, Xenomorphs (Alien)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-28
Updated: 2018-10-28
Packaged: 2019-08-08 21:28:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,962
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16437122
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dragoneisha/pseuds/Dragoneisha
Summary: Dave and Dirk come home to Bro after a long night of crashing parties, stealing candies, and being generally delinquent.Dirk and Bro worked too hard on their costumes.Dave wants a bath, and earns one.





	Batty Bratty Catty Taffy

**Author's Note:**

  * For [TheMockingCrows](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheMockingCrows/gifts).



As the night winds down, Dave finds himself face-to-face with truly one of the most terrifying things he’s ever seen. And he’s seen many things, so that’s really saying something.

Most of them have been Bro’s fault, and this is no different. 

“Dude, I’m begging you to move this fucking monstrosity out of the door,” Dave whines, and if the ears on his head were real, they’d fold back flat against his skull. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” says Bro, from - probably behind the door, if Dave had to guess, but he’s throwing his voice into the mouth of this life-size hellish puppetmonster in front of him, and Dave hates it, he hates it so much, why can’t he lay off the insanity for like ten minutes. Just long enough for Dave to go get a bath. Wow, would he love a bath.

“Hey, is that Sigourney Weaver? Damn, she’s really thinned out,” comments Dirk as he closes the stair door and trots up behind Dave. She hasn’t really thinned out, though. She’s just missing her lungs. She appears to have had them torn out, probably by a xenomorph, considering the tatters of a flight suit she’s wearing. The back wall of the thoracic cavity is frighteningly realistic, which is weird, because the rest of her is a nonrealistic Muppet-style puppet body.

“Her nose is too big,” says Dave, trying to get past Hell Universe Sigourney Weaver and into the apartment. She doesn’t have any lungs but she doesn’t shut her terrifying mouth anyway. “I can’t believe I bring you back a whole dickload of taffy and you block my way with your candy dispensary mannequin.”

“She’s a host,” says Bro with his own voice, and Sigourney Weaver tilts to the side to make room for him poking his head from behind the door. Dave doesn’t look at him. He doesn’t deserve it, the old bastard. “You’re too old to trick-or-treat. Where’d you get taffy?”

Dirk very carefully folds down the wings of his Dragonzord costume, which Dave is _pretty sure_ has working hydraulics in it, because Dirk doesn’t know how to relax, so he can also inch past Sigourney Weevil. Dave reaches back to help without looking, even as he sneaks his way past the doorframe, which is going to be only the first in a variety of obstacles. 

Dirk and Bro share many, many similarities, but their most important one, as of now, 11:47 on Hallow’s Eve, is that they’re both going to trick each other (and Dave) as much as they can until the night’s over. Why can’t it ever be a treat?

Dave knows why. It’s a lot of fun playing trick or treat except it’s really two tricks and the choice is who tricks him instead.

“We crashed a house party and I stole all their orange cream saltwater taffy,” Dave says as he stretches, his five dollar jaguar-print leotard stretching uncomfortably in some very strange places (just as it was specifically bought for). “If you weren’t being so mean to me, I would try and Kobe it between your unsmiling lips. Alas.” He puts a hand to the back of his head, and his acrylic nails almost get caught on his headband in a way he doesn’t like. How rude. You’d think the nails he so graciously stickied onto his fingers would stop being so terrible to wear, but - in his own words - “alas”.

Dirk is also paying attention, but at the same time, he’s surreptitiously trying to cut and supplant the strings on Bro’s door-answering puppet so it hits Bro in the face when he tries to move it next. Dave swings his hips so his tail sways with it.

Behind him, Bro, distracted by other means, lets go of the marionette, and it falls on Dirk. He makes a very unmanly sound of fright Dave is sure he will deny later.

“I’m not being mean,” Bro denies, and then shuts the door on Dirk’s foot. Dave would use that in his “mean” argument, but he’s pretty sure Bro straight up didn’t notice. “I’m so nice. I even left you some pizza rolls, that’s how nice I am.”

“There is chili pepper in every single one of those pizza rolls and we both know it,” Dave retorts.

“He left it out of three so he could steal those and not have hot mouth,” Dirk adds helpfully, muffled by the fact that his dragonzord helm is caught in Sigourney Weaver’s thoracic cavity.

Dave gives Bro’s lying liar face a Look. The guy doesn’t even seem sorry. He just lifts his hands and gives a weak excuse: “It’s trick _or_ treat, man. I can’t just treat you all the time.”

Dave turns his back on them both again, and Dirk makes an appreciative sound, probably because he’s staring at his ass. His ass does look good in this leotard, Dave thinks, so it’s likely. 

“Come on, man,” Dave says, and even though rolling his eyes isn’t visible, he knows the other two Striders can tell. It’s that sick Strider bond, yo. “You never treat me. Or Dirk.”

Dirk grumbles in agreement, finally managing to pull Dead Muppet Sigourney Weaver off his head and toss it aside. He makes a face at the empty cavity of her chest, and Dave peeks back at him, making sure he’s okay. He looks fine, but even Dirk’s perfect hair can’t stand up to what looks like about forty pounds of muppet. Finally, the hair has fallen.

Dave shoots Dirk a wink, and the corner of his mouth tenses in that way that Dave knows so very well. Oh yes. Come and get him, Dragonzord. Maybe if he’s lucky he’ll be a very bad dragon.

Dave cracks a smirk to himself, folding his arms over his head all nice, like he’s showing off. Hell yeah, that’s a good thought. Now, he’s not a scalie, he swears, but it’s kinda hot to imagine fucking a dragonzord, you know? Dragons are inherently horny creatures, and it’s hard not to develop _some_ kind of robotfucking affinity in this god damned apartment. Plus it’s Dirk in the dragonzord costume, and who _doesn’t_ want to bone down with Dirk, right?

He’s the funniest man alive, Dave thinks to himself.

Distracted as he is, Bro’s hot hands curling over Dave’s hips comes as a surprise, and he makes a little shocked mewl that matches his costume. Bro presses himself all up against Dave’s back. 

“Do you want me to?” Bro asks, and Dave busies himself just melting at that tone of voice. Oh, hell yes. Hell. Fucking. Yes. He feels his shoulder blades thump gently against Bro’s chest as he leans back. Bro’s chest is softer than he thought, and warmer, is he not wearing a shirt? That’s - wait. 

Wait a fucking second.

Dave realizes he hasn’t actually looked at Bro at about the same time he realizes that his belly is where his chest should be. 

(In retrospect, he’s shocked Bro didn’t dribble slime onto his shoulder.)

Dave blinks, twice, and takes a deep breath. “You know,” he says, quietly, staring up into the blank, fuzzy black dome that hides the upper half of Bro’s face, “I thought xenomorphs were scary when they _weren’t_ puppet-based.”

“Sexy puppet,” offers Dirk, who’s gotten to his feet and is pulling off various complicated costume parts. Dave sees some wires out of the corner of his eye, he knew that thing was fucking mechanized. “I can see his whole, entire ass from here.”

“It looks good, right?” Bro asks, in just a low enough timbre that Dave can feel it rumble through his back, and he’s really, really quite mad that it’s _this_ that wakes his dick up. Hello, Dave Jr., you’ve missed a lot. Bro can tell, too, because one of his hands starts to sneak under Dave’s leotard. Dave opens his mouth to complain more about his terrible, no good, very bad Halloween costume, and then remembers what’s under his leotard.

“Hey, wait -”

Too late. Bro stops short, and then, after a moment of silence, pulls out a handful of half-melted orange cream taffy. The crinkle of their wrappers embeds itself into Dave’s brain. He will never forget it.

“Hm,” says Bro.

Dirk leans around him and lays one gauntleted hand on Dave’s belly. Dave squirms, because it presses the pointy bit of the wrappers into his skin and he’s already sensitive from having shoved it all down his front and hopping out the window a few hours ago. “Think it melted in there?” he asks Bro, who pinches one between two fingers.

“Signs point to yes,” Bro answers, and he may have felt and something see-through over his face but Dave is still pinned by his stare. “But the best way to find out is probably to peel that stupid bargain-bin neko costume off him.”

“I’m just a normal cat, not everything is anime, you goddamn freaks,” Dave protests, but Dirk’s already grabbing his legs and Bro’s arm has locked itself around his waist, which just presses more taffy into his belly, this was such a terrible idea, he needs a shower so bad.

Bro and Dirk work together to carry Dave to the couch, even as he vainly struggles. Bro has the fucking audacity to eat one of the taffys while holding Dave with the other arm. “Chocola called,” he says with his mouth full, “she wants her aesthetic back.” 

Dirk snorts.

When he’s dropped on the couch, Dave realizes that oh, god, the costume is so much worse than he thought. Pretty much the only things covered are Bro’s face, hands, feet, and dick. Now, the long gloves aren’t a surprise, though they look too hot, smelly, and unpleasant, the dome has already cursed Dave’s poor eyes, but oh, the jockstrap. Oh, the alien jockstrap. This is the worst xenomorph costume he’s ever seen. It’s genuinely unpleasant to look at. The best parts are the places where it isn’t (but then again he already knew that) and the reason that Bro was taller than normal is because he is wearing fucking thigh-high boots he _definitely made himself_ that make his legs look digitigrade, because why wouldn’t he go all out on his sexy muppet xenomorph costume? Especially when literally only Dave and Dirk are going to see it? Why is this the man Dave has to live with?

Dave communicates at least a little of that in his face, because the two-centimeter movement of Bro’s shoulders downward means he’s pouting.

“Help,” Dave whines, “I’m being abducted by aliens and they’re gonna probe my ass.”

“One alien, one alien vessel, get your shit right,” Dirk scolds like Dave’s misidentified shapes in a kindergarten class. “God, you’d think he’s never seen any movie ever.”

“You should make him watch all of them, just to be sure.”

“You’re both cunts can you please stop fucking teasing me. It’s like living in the fucking Black Mirror episode where every minute is a billion years, except instead of being in a cookie I’m in my own goddamn apartment and you two are taking your time fondling my barbed kittydick.”

Bro sighs. “So he’s seen TV shows and not movies. What an uncultured cat we have.”

Dave swats at him, admittedly, very catlike. He doesn’t hiss, but he does whine, and the way Dirk grabs his ankles to make him stop kicking is payment enough for it.

“Kitty wants pets,” Dirk informs Bro, who obliges, in his own, very Bro way. But it’s not like Dave’s gonna complain when those fingers - wow, those are felt gloves patterned like fucking xenomorph hands, aren’t they - curl all nice and tight in his hair. 

Kitty is pretty sure hair yanks aren’t pets, but again, who’s he to complain? At least they’ve stopped calling him a neko. He’s gotta brush up on his trivia, he doesn’t know who Chocola is and honestly he’s kind of afraid to. Would he live a better life not knowing about this mysterious Chocola? Would he really? He probably would.

He’s gonna stick his nose in it on November 1st. For now, he has two brothers to handle.

Bro pulls just enough to make Dave’s head lean back against the arm of the couch, and he can see in the shape of the smooth, super fugly felt the barest outline of Bro’s dick. It’d be pulling the felt to the side when he was fully hard. That would be at least a little sexy.

“Woah, how were you even talking with those,” Dirk half-hums from down where his hand is finding its way to Dave’s dick (over the leotard, unfortunately.) A glance reveals what he’s talking about - Bro has some of those teeth inserts in, makes his mouth look like an anglerfish. It’s… alright. Dave will give him points for that one.

Bro winks. Dave swallows. “Y’know,” he protests, while Bro tries to get both his wrists pinned and he tries to keep that from happening, “you didn’t even go all the way and give yourself an eel mouth up in there. Zero out of ten, least sexy costume.”

“So it’s the pharyngeal jaw that gets you going,” Bro says, the observation punctuating his success. Dave is well and truly stuck, even when he does take his hand away - it’s part of the game, after all. “Didn’t realize you were a teratophiliac. Is this why you love Halloween so much?”

“Oh yeah, baby. I saw somebody dressed as Hellboy and my dick got so hard it exploded out of my leotard. I had to go get a new one.”

“And yet you still didn’t pick a good one.”

“Fuck you,” Dave says, fishing for a retort.

“He’s going to,” Dirk obliges, and Dave can’t reply with how suddenly his dick is being cupped in firm, robodragon hands. Those are actually really cool gauntlets. Sexy in the way a nice kickflip or well-executed photograph is sexy. He’d been looking at them, like, all night, so he has a fantastic mental image, but he can’t look because Bro is forcing him to watch how his dick swells while he picks pieces of taffy off the back of the couch and eats them. 

He whines.

“Not a kitty noise,” smacks Bro, and then, “Got taffy on my fucking teeth.”

“What did you expect, you’re eating fucking taffy and I know you didn’t just take out those inserts. It’s got so much to stick to. Those are ruined, pal. Good fucking job.”

“This is not sexy at all,” whines Dave some more, to which Dirk squeezes just a bit too tight on his dick and Bro pulls his hair at exactly the same time. 

He’s getting way too hot and bothered for this. He thought the teasing was going to let up, but he watches the way Bro’s dick starts to loosen his shitty felt jockstrap and hears the pleased hum Dirk gives, while Dave’s busy going out of his mind at the way they’re just handling him like it’s nothing - he feels powerless.

It makes him shiver. Dirk pats his thigh with the other hand, and Bro’s little “hm?” noise lets him know that he’s checking it out, too. No worries here. All good, just being manhandled by two sexy beasts, while he is also dressed as a sexy beast, AKA, a cat.

He dips a little into not-knowing when Dirk rubs his palm in circles against his clothes dick, just the way he likes. It’s slow, languid motions, movements that make him want to rock up and eke a little more out of the moment. But if he tries, it’ll stop, so he figures he’ll just sit here consumed with lust for the rest of the evening.

Not that he really had a choice about it. These two chucklefucks wouldn’t let him up for anything.

“You think he knows he’s making those little noises?” Dirk asks, because Dirk gets talkative when they do this, always has.

Bro just grunts, the taffy-hand - which looks clean, so clearly the taffy isn’t that melty - reaching to thumb aside the black that had been hiding his cock. It doesn’t spring so much as fall out, and Dave gasps, choking back one of the little groans they were talking about. 

“Probably a no on that one,” Bro guesses, and Dave isn’t the most in his right mind but he’s pretty sure he’s right, because he doesn’t remember making any noise. Damn him for being right. Damn himself for making weird little noises, but hey, if they like it…

Bro’s hand curls around his dick, and he strokes it, a few times. Dave tries to wait, he doesn’t want to look thirsty and succumb to the whole horny cat stereotype, but he wants nothing more than to have that in his mouth, right now, yes, thank you. Unlike some people, he didn’t invest in impractical inserts. 

Dirk pulls his leotard to the side and starts trying to scoop the taffy out of it. It itches, and it tickles, too. Dave can’t help but laugh breathlessly. 

“Score, idiot,” says Bro, and he presses his dick between Dave’s lips, earning a surprised little huff. “That’s what you get for opening your mouth.”

Dave can’t see, but he can physically feel Dirk rolling his eyes.

“I was gonna make him meow before I did anything, but you’ve gone and ruined it now,” Dirk complains, and something pops open down there out of Dave’s field of vision.

Dave descends into a world of sound and taste. Bro is already dribbling pre on his tongue, and he’s quiet, as he usually is. Dirk, on the other hand, has started making these pleased little noises, noises that Dave could maybe hear if his own muffled groans weren’t plugging his ears. Dirk squeezes the base of his dick, imprecise, and Dave moans outright, which just makes Bro buck forward. What a lovely set of dominoes, Dave thinks nonsensically, but he’s the only one that’s going down.

Why does a cock in his mouth have to keep him from talking when he’s the funniest man alive? 

“You keeping the wings on while you ride his dick?” Bro asks, and Dave can’t help the neediest sound he’s ever muffled out around a cock from thrumming in his throat. Oh yes, please, please ride him Dirk, he’s dying for it especially after them taking so damn long. His fingers curl into absolute nothingness, the backs of his hands flexing against the semi-coarse fabric of the couch, and Dave tries to squirm.

“You know it. Look, they can flap. Ooh, watch him, he’s going,” Dirk says, and there’s a little metal noise like one of those old white robotic raptors would make when they walked around.

Bro is bent over him almost before he knows it, and his rough hands, covered by soft felt, pin Dave down so securely he couldn’t even think of getting up. Squeezes the breath out of him, too, which he likes almost as much as the new angle Bro’s got on his mouth. 

He hears a wet kind of smacking sound, and Dirk snorts. “Don’t you try to kiss me unless you’re feeding me some of that taffy, not with those fangs.”

“Technically, these aren’t fangs. They’re all semi-even, so it’s just a mouthful of teeth.”

“When did you become an expert in odontology?” Dirk questions, stroking up Dave’s dick with a too-tight grip, could they please focus on _him_ for _ten seconds_ , “Either way, you’re going to have to get in on that dedentition action before you get any smackeroonies outta me.”

Dave mewls, and Bro thrusts into his mouth. Good enough for now. 

“Hurry up and cram the cat’s dick in your ass,” Bro grumbles, in his feelings-hurt-grumble voice, so Dave reaches to grip his hips and suckles on his dick like he’s trying to drink a milkshake through it. Not quite that kind of milk - alright, Dave is shutting himself down, could we focus on the cock? Cock sucking? Sounds great. 

He actually does get a groan out of Bro, but he doesn’t even have enough time to enjoy it before Dirk is shifting his weight on the couch and stroking his dick in a few swift motions.

It’s delightful. That’s all there is to say, except maybe heavenly if he’s feeling dramatic, about how it feels when Dirk sinks down on his dick. Dave wants to writhe, but when he starts to move Bro’s right hand splays on his jaguar-print sternum and the left catches his chin, forces it up a little. It’s not the most comfortable, but it makes it so Bro has a straight shot down his throat, and he starts using it. 

Dave might cry, he’s so happy. Dirk probably already is. The gasps and whining little breaths from him are at least close enough, laced with just enough pleasure to go straight to Dave’s dick. It twitches right before Dirk starts to ride him in earnest.

Dave is stuck there, listening and feeling and bucking uselessly up while his brothers take what they like from him, and he might as well be drunk on it.

The way Bro’s cock throbs in his throat, and how nicely Dirk clenches around him, it’s too much, especially after so much teasing. He struggles, breathlessly, kicks the opposite arm of the couch, his eyes fixed on the dark grey, unpatterned patch of couch he can actually see, filling his vision with a bland backdrop to overwhelming sensation. 

“Ghh, fuck it, fuck, I give up, fuck my upstanding and ostentatious line in the sand, I’m wantin’ it now, man, kiss me already you fu- mmph -”

A symphony of wet, needy sounds Dirk makes into Bro’s mouth are what actually send him over the edge. Dave almost sobs around Bro’s cock, a difficult endeavor with how nicely his throat’s being fucked, and climaxes without warning inside of Dirk. Dirk seems about as surprised as Dave is, judging by the half-muffled gasp and groan - but that could also be the tongue being shoved into his mouth. Dave knows Bro well enough to know what that little growl he’s making means.

The hand on Dave’s chin disappears while he enjoys being throatfucked in his afterglow. Dirk pulls off of him, but doesn’t last much longer, whimpering nonsense as he cums over Dave’s leotard. Can’t even care right now. Too busy being the happiest goddamn cat in the world, and he hasn’t even got the cream yet.

When he starts to make his need-to-breathe noises, Bro at least has the decency to speed up, hilting in his mouth a few more times before he comes down Dave’s throat with his balls against his face. Dave can feel felt on his chin, which almost ruins the pleasant, distant feeling of swallowing Bro’s cum. Spitters are quitters.

“Kitty didn’t even get to taste it,” murmurs a breathless Dirk, who’s starting to lay himself forward on top of Dave. The pressure is pure bliss. A little weight on him is the best thing ever after a nice orgasm.

“He’ll manage,” Bro hums, and Dave twists his head to lay comfy with the help of Bro’s hand, pulled from his weary chest. He may be sturdy enough, but right now, he feels fragile as spun sugar, and just as likely to melt. “But I bet I know what’ll make the kitty even happier.”

Dave makes a curious little noise while Dirk kisses his neck, lamenting the lack of a collar with a bell. (Maybe next time.)

Bro pulls one fluffy ear, the headband long lopsided. “A bath?”

When Dave speaks, it’s with the pleasant, low rasp of someone who’s gotten their throat truly fucked.

“Oh, hell yeah.”

**Author's Note:**

> woooo i wrote all of this super late in a single stint because..... halloween. im so tired but this was worth it! thanks again to ryn for being the best ever and havign such delicious prompts. like fuck dude id eat these if you let me


End file.
